Battling With Death
by Traycer
Summary: Jack finds himself in a situation where he has to battle with death one more time. Contains some violence.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was inspired by the episode, "Last Stand". Sam was comforting a young Lieutenant who knew he was dying and I wondered how Jack would have handle it if he was in a position to deal with it. But then the story changed as I was writing it, and this is what I ended up with - a whole different slant.

* * *

"Colonel?" the Lieutenant's voice was weak, but Jack O'Neill still heard it through his own labored breathing. 

"Yeah?" Jack responded, as he sat on the floor with his back to the wall. He was using the wall as a support to hold him up even as he marveled over the fact the he even had the strength to sit up.

The Lieutenant didn't answer and Jack turned his head to see if he was still alive, all the while struggling with the pain that had throbbed through him with the movement. He had taken inventory of his injuries and general health status when he'd first awakened in this cell, which told him he was dealing with several broken bones and a few cracked ribs. He also knew without a doubt that there was some internal bleeding going on in his abused body somewhere. The Lieutenant had been treated just as badly, although Jack could see blood on his jacket, indicating an external wound. They were in serious trouble and Jack briefly wondered if this was going to end happily – at the very least with the two of them waking up in the infirmary with Janet Fraiser's worried face hovering over them.

Jack watched as Lieutenant Brian Woodward took a ragged breath before trying to speak again. "Colonel, I…" Woodward stopped speaking, seemingly to take another breath. Jack waited wearily for Woodward to speak, then decided to put the man at ease.

"Don't try to talk," he insisted. "Save your strength."

Jack was glad when it appeared that Woodward was going to take his advice. It took a lot of energy to just keep himself upright, let alone trying to comfort a subordinate in a stinking Goa'uld cell. He found himself wondering where the other members of his team were. He and Woodward, who had come along on this mission to help Daniel gather artifacts for study back on Earth, had gone off to do a little scouting, leaving Carter, Teal'c and Daniel to catalogue their findings. Jack had thought that Woodward could use a break from Daniel's mumblings and inherent fascination with the artifacts and told the young Lieutenant to follow him for a little recon to make sure they wouldn't be surprised later on by anyone or anything.

He and Woodward were ambushed anyway. They had almost walked right into a group of Jaffa, Jack realizing they were there only moments before the Jaffa attacked from their hiding places among the trees. He and Woodward had put up a good fight, but as good as Jack liked to believe he was, they were still outnumbered and apparently too far away from his teammates for them to come to the rescue.

Instead of killing them, the Jaffa stunned them with a zat and dragged them off to deal with the Jaffa's God of choice. This particular 'God' was just as bad as all the other false Gods Jack had ever met, and proceeded to beat the hell out of Jack and Woodward with whatever weapons he had in his arsenal. The worst had been the pain stick that Jack dreaded with all his being.

The Goa'uld had been fair in his treatment of both men, despite Jack's attempts to goad the snake into taking his wrath out on him instead of Woodward. His attempts to protect Woodward just caused the Goa'uld to laugh as he prodded the young Lieutenant with the pain stick. Jack finally got the point and resorted to silence as the Goa'uld tortured both men.

He was now dealing with the aftermath of that beating. So was Woodward, for that matter. Jack watched the young man in silence, not wanting to entice him into saying anything. Woodward looked back at him tiredly, his eyes filled with fear and the agony he was experiencing. He licked his lips to combat the dryness then whispered, "Colonel, I… Forgive me sir, but I don't want to die." Jack heard the pleading in Woodward's voice, and he felt a tightening in his chest as he contemplated those words.

God, how was he supposed to respond to that, Jack thought, anguish rushing through him. "You're not going to die Lieutenant," he said, his eyes boring into Woodward's. "SG-1 will be busting in here any minute now. Just hang on until they get here."

"Yes sir," Woodward responded. It was apparent that he regretted even saying anything. Jack had seen the guilt in his eyes before he closed them in weariness.

Jack closed his own eyes in an effort to save his strength. He was in a lot of pain and he worried that this wasn't going to be the end of it. The Goa'uld had tried to find out everything he could about the Tau'ri through Jack and Woodward and Jack knew from experience that this snakehead was going to continue with the torture. The Goa'ulds were notorious for their arrogance and the fact that they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. This guy wanted the secrets that Jack and Woodward kept in their respective brains and Jack knew that they both were in for some major hell.

He tried to relax, to get some rest so that he would be better prepared for the next session, but the Lieutenant's words were haunting him, bringing back memories of other young men he had known who faced death and were not ashamed to admit their fears. He had been one of those men at various times throughout his career, except for the fact that he had been too stubborn to ever admit it to anyone.

Jack nearly screamed when he'd decided to lie down at the point. He gritted his teeth instead, as he slid down the wall sideways, trying to keep the screams at bay. God did that hurt! He was now positive that his right arm was broken, having felt the bones in that arm grind together when he fell on it. He lay there panting, waiting for the pain to subside before trying to move in an effort to make himself comfortable, as if that were a possibility. He was in so much trouble, he thought to himself, even as he turned his head to look at the door of the cell, wondering if he would be strong enough to find a way out.

The floor was cold and damp, but Jack was past caring. This little inconvenience was minor compared to the agonizing pain racing through his body. He stayed where he was though, in hopes of finding a way to control the pain and the fears he had been harboring, which were now magnified by the Lieutenant's words.

He tried to compensate for the fears by thinking of all the times he'd wanted to die, craved it with his very soul. Those were hard times in his life, times when complete hopelessness filled him. It was a Goa'uld who had him begging for death the last time. He had pleaded with both Ba'al and Daniel to end it, to give him the peace he so desperately wanted, hating them both when they wouldn't. His hatred of Daniel only lasted for a brief time, though, his relief in seeing his friend's face again overriding the anger.

A noise outside his cell brought Jack out of his musing. Someone was coming and Jack fervently hoped that it was SG-1. He heard Woodward groan quietly and Jack could totally relate to the feelings of defeat that prompted the groan. The footsteps heading their way were heavy, telling Jack he might as well get ready for another round. SG-1 would have been sneaking in quietly.

Jack didn't move as the door of the cell opened. He knew what the consequences were for moving, more pain. Instead, he waited quietly, wondering what they had in store for him and the Lieutenant. Two of the Jaffa came in, one of them carrying plates of food while the other held a pain stick in his hand. They were prepared for anything he could come up with, Jack saw, as another Jaffa waited by the door holding a staff weapon. The Jaffa with the pain stick came over and knelt down next to Jack, telling him, "You will eat to gain your strength. My Lord wishes you to be ready for interrogation by nightfall."

"Bite me!" Jack snarled, his anger at the whole situation momentarily making him forget common sense.

"I will do more than that," the Jaffa sneered just before pressing the pain stick into Jack's side. Jack's whole body convulsed as the white-hot energy of the weapon swelled through him, causing him to scream in agony. He writhed and jerked, despite his broken bones, his only thought was to get away from the source of his agony.

Jack didn't know how long he had been tortured by the pain stick. It seemed like hours to him, but in reality was probably only a few minutes. The other Jaffa was still standing there holding both plates, calmly waiting for him to stop his convulsing and writhing. Jack was a quick learner though, and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut when the Jaffa with the pain stick verbally reminded him who was in charge.

The plates of food were set down next to their heads and the Jaffa left the two men alone. Jack wondered if he had enough strength to eat what was on his plate, not even caring at that point whether Woodward was gong to eat or not.

He groaned as he tried to reach over to pick up some food. The plate had been laid down next to him on his right side, which meant Jack had to put a little pressure on that arm in order to reach it. He decided to scoot down a little to see if that would ease his suffering, but then realized that he was going to just have to bite the bullet and get it over with. He finally got his hand on a piece of cooked meat and popped it into his mouth, trying hard not to even think about what the meat was before it was cooked.

He laid there on his back, chewing on the meat, as he tried to come up with a plan to get them both out of there. He looked over at Woodward to see how he as doing, only to find the man hadn't moved. "Eat up Lieutenant," Jack said, accidentally spitting out some of the food that was in his mouth as he spoke. His mother had always told him to never talk with his mouth full, he thought, wishing he could talk to his mother right then. It would mean he wasn't here in this hellhole.

"Not hungry sir," Woodward replied.

"Would you rather the Jaffa come back and see that you hadn't eaten?" Jack asked. He was surprised when Woodward's face paled even more than it already was.

"No sir," Woodward said, as he rolled over slightly to get to his food. Jack continued to chew on the meat as he watched Woodward pick up his own piece of meat. "What do you think this is?" Woodward asked.

"It's probably better that we don't know," Jack answered and was pleased to see a smile show up on Woodward's face, albeit a weak one.

"Yes sir," he responded. They lapsed into silence as they ate. It only took Jack a few tries of reaching his food for him to realize that he could just pick up the entire plate and set it on his chest, making it much easier and less painful to access.

"Sir…," Woodward said, as he tried to sit up. Jack could see it was a huge effort on Woodward's part, judging by the grimaces and the sweat on his face. "I want to apologize for my earlier words," Woodward continued, once he was sitting up.

"What words?" Jack asked, confusion clouding his brain.

Woodward sat there, looking everywhere but at Jack. "About dying." he finally blurted out.

"We're not going to die Lieutenant," Jack insisted. I should get so lucky, Jack thought dryly. There had been plenty of times he'd wished he were dead, only to find that life wasn't ready to give up on him. He had almost died in Iraq, just before he had been thrown into one of their prisons. Four months of hell followed his revival and Jack grimaced as he thought about all the times he'd begged for death in that place. Their methods of interrogation were different from Ba'al's, but he still remembered the agony and degradation of the beatings and the torture he went through before being freed from that hellhole. There was no fear of death in that place, only a desire to get out of there by any means, including death.

"Sir?" Woodward's insistence finally got through Jack's memories.

"Yeah?" Jack asked tiredly. What he wouldn't give for an ice cold beer and a hot tub right about then.

Woodward gave a relieved sigh. "I thought you were dead for a minute there," he said. "You didn't answer me, just stared at the ceiling. I got a little worried."

Jack looked over at Woodward, then said, "Sorry about that. What did you want?"

"I just asked about SG-1 and when did you think they were going to show up."

"Any minute now," Jack responded. There was no doubt in his mind that his team would show up. It was just a matter of them getting there before the Goa'uld killed him. Although to be fair, he really did believe his team would show up in time to save the day. He didn't know when he had acquired this optimistic attitude, just that it got him through more than his share of hopeless situations. It was better to believe that help was just around the corner than to dwell on thoughts of death.

Hope springs eternal, someone once told him... or had he read that somewhere? He truly believed that where there was hope, there was the determination to get himself out of whatever situation he found himself in. If he gave up on hope, he gave up on himself, and that in itself was unacceptable. He was a firm believer in using his talents and skills to get himself out of anything, and when that didn't work, he relied on his friends.

Hope springs eternal… that wasn't necessarily true in all instances. It weakens considerably when waking up in a sarcophagus after having been killed by torture a half dozen times, and completely dies out after a dozen times. It disappears into the woodwork after a month of daily beatings and abuse at the hands of the Iraqis. And it dies right along with the child who accidentally kills himself while playing with his father's gun.

Oh God, as if his physical pain wasn't enough right now, he thought. This was so not good, but the memories of the weeks after Charlie's funeral flooded his mind, reminding him of another time when he'd wanted to die. He had been tortured then, as well, although his torturer was himself. His mind wouldn't let him forget that it was his gun, his house, his son. He had inadvertently killed his son, even if he didn't pull the trigger, and he had wanted to kill himself.

Sara had wanted him to get rid of the gun; in fact she had demanded that he get it out of her house. It was an instrument of death and a deadly reminder of her loss, but he kept it with him. He had every intention of using it, to escape his own pain and to bring justice to his son's murderer. But he couldn't do it. As much as he struggled with himself to pull the trigger, his incessant desire to live fought back with a vengeance, making him feel like he was letting his entire family down because he couldn't pull that trigger. He remembered the relief he felt when General West had told him of his mission through the Stargate. He knew he would do whatever it took to keep Earth safe, even if it meant killing himself in the process. It was just the way he was. That mission had been his salvation in his inner struggle to end it all.

His salvation in more ways than one, Jack thought, as he lay there on the cold floor with his eyes closed. Woodward seemed to be asleep, having lain back down sometime during the last few minutes, and Jack was glad for the silence. He tried once more to relax, but his thoughts were keeping him wound up and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. He concentrated on breathing slowly, wondering what it was that was causing him trouble. All that writhing on the floor couldn't have helped him, especially with his broken ribs, and he silently cursed the Jaffa who had caused him to writhe like that.

He tried to move so that he could find out what else was wrong after that last little exhibition, but his muscles and broken bones were screaming at him to stop. He groaned as the pain pushed him to the edge of darkness, but not quite over it. Sleep would be good, but apparently it was not on the agenda.

He found himself wondering where his friends were. They should have figured out that he and Woodward were missing by now. What was keeping them? He knew they wouldn't give up on him - they were a team. Teal'c would readily lay down his life for Jack, just as Jack would do for him. He had been told that Sam Carter worked herself into exhaustion to save him from being banished to Edora, and that was only one example of her loyalty and feelings for him. Daniel proved his worth from that very first mission to Abydos when he'd killed the Jaffa who had Jack in his sights. His willingness to put his own life on the line to save the Abydonian girl, Sha're who later became his wife, told Jack that Daniel was a man he would be proud to call a friend.

Jack remembered how Daniel had sat there stunned to learn that Jack would be willing to die, along with all the other people on Abydos, just to end his own pain. Daniel had saved his life that day, whether he knew it or not. He had broken through the barrier Jack had erected to imprison himself in his mind, along with the pain. It was Daniel who made Jack see that he would be killing more children, including the one kid who had captured Jack's heart, Skaa'ra. Skaa'ra had reminded Jack of Charlie and Jack held onto this until Skaa'ra had become just as important to him as Charlie was.

He couldn't kill Skaa'ra or any of the other children living on Abydos. Daniel and Skaa'ra gave him back the hope he needed to live. Just as Daniel did when he came back to Ba'al's fortress to tell him that Carter, Teal'c and Jonas had thought of something. Jack's eyes popped open as he thought about how hope had been given back to him in Iraq when the Marines came busting down that prison he was held in and took him out of there. Hope springs eternal, he realized with a renewed well of hope building up in him. They were going to get out of this. Maybe not in one piece, but they WERE going to get out of this.

He turned to look at Woodward again, knowing it was this guy who had given him the ammunition he needed to grasp firmly onto this hope that was building up within him. "We're going to get out of this, Woodward," he said to the Lieutenant, realizing that he was probably asleep and wouldn't hear it.

"Yes sir," Woodward responded without opening his eyes. "I was just thinking about who it was I was with. You always get out of stuff like this," he added then opened his eyes and turned to look at Jack, "I just hope I'll still be here when you do."

"Ten bucks says you will be," Jack said, truly believing he would be collecting on that bet.

"I'll give you the money when we get back to the SGC sir," Woodward said, then groaned when he had tried to move. "Maybe once we get out of the infirmary," he amended.

Jack closed his eyes and tried one more time to relax. He was going to need his strength when SG-1 got there. He eventually fell asleep, despite his body's insistence on letting him know it was suffering.

His sleep was interrupted several hours later with the sounds of heavy footsteps coming toward him. Oh God, he thought, as he tried to calm his fears. He just needed to get through this until SG-1 showed up. He could do this; he had to. He laid there quietly, drawing on his strength and hoping it was enough.

"Get up," demanded the Jaffa who had tormented him earlier. Jack rolled over on his left side in an effort to comply, but he was too slow and the Jaffa grabbed him by his broken arm, pulling him up off the floor.

"Ahhgg," he gritted out, closing his eyes to keep from watching the floor tilt up toward him. The Jaffa was very unsympathetic to Jack's problems and pulled him toward the door, causing Jack to give into the agony as he stumbled and fell face first to the floor.

"You must get up and come with us," Jack heard a Jaffa say into his ear. Jack dared to open his eyes and found that the room was no longer spinning and that the Jaffa who had brought them the food was kneeling next to him. The other two Jaffa were standing over him, the one who had brought him so much pain sneering down at him.

"Come with us," the Jaffa repeated, holding his left arm out for Jack to grab onto. Jack watched him warily for a few seconds, then rolled over onto his back and grabbed onto the offered arm with his left hand. He was pulled up and Jack stood still for a few more seconds to catch his breath, which was a little hard to do considering that his lungs were refusing to cooperate.

He and Woodward were led out of the cell and they walked down a hallway. The Jaffa with the staff weapon was in the front while the other two brought up the rear. Jack looked over at Woodward, who was staring at the ground in front of them as they walked toward their fate. Jack then half turned in his tracks, wondering if he and Woodward stood a chance at making a break for it. He seriously doubted it, as Woodward was limping badly and Jack was cradling his broken arm like he would a baby. They were both in bad shape and he knew they wouldn't be able to get past their guards.

A coughing spell came over Jack just as they got to their destination. He tried to stop it, as the movements were causing considerable pain, but he couldn't, so he leaned up against a wall to keep from falling over. The Jaffa surprisingly waited for him to catch his breath, watching him as he wiped the blood from his chin. "Move!" the sadistic one demanded.

They moved on, walking into a room that was unfamiliar to Jack. They stopped in the middle of the room, facing a platform that held several small globes and Jack began to really get worried. His worry evaporated when he heard the sweet sounds of zats, but stumbled again when the sadistic Jaffa brushed past him as he fell.

Jack ended up on his knees, still cradling his arm, coughing up more blood. He stared at the fallen Jaffa, knowing that his friends had come through for him again. He smiled at Carter when she came up to him, worry etching her face as she knelt down in front of him. "Sir?" she said, reaching up to wipe the fresh blood off of his face.

"I knew you guys would come to the rescue," he told her. "I didn't lose hope this time."

"You must leave now," said a voice Jack recognized as belonging to the Jaffa who had urged him to accompany them. Jack turned to verify that his suspicions were correct and saw the Jaffa standing next to Teal'c.

Daniel was the one who answered Jack's unspoken question. "He's a Tok'ra," he said, as he stood next to Woodward.

"Tok'ra," Jack said, as he allowed Carter to help him up. "Figures," he added, turning to leave the room.

Teal'c came to walk beside him, and Jack found that he was glad for this. Teal'c would be there to drag him out of there in the event he passed out, which was a good possibility, Jack realized. He was just so tired.

He let his companions lead him out as they slowly made their way to the Stargate. They had to stop several times for both Jack and Woodward to rest and once to engage in a battle that Jack was not up to fighting. He found himself watching the others from his hiding place among some bushes where Teal'c had unceremoniously dumped him, with the zat Daniel had handed him primed and ready to shoot if the opportunity arose.

The Stargate was a welcome sight for Jack. It stood there like a beacon, showing them the way to safety and he smiled through his pain when he saw it. He had been hanging on by a thread and sheer willpower for the past 15 minutes, refusing to give into the darkness that kept calling to him. Teal'c and Daniel practically dragged him and Woodward to the Gate while Carter ran to the DHD. Jack stumbled when he got to the steps that led to the Gate, then gave into the darkness when he realized that he had made it to safety. Death was going to have to wait for some other time.

* * *

Jack hated lying around. He was perfectly capable of getting up and around on his own, but would Dr. Janet Fraiser believe him? Noooo! He grimaced as he thought about the argument he'd lost with the doctor. She had insisted he stay under her power for a few more days and Jack had to give in, even though he refused to admit that part of the reason he gave in was because he knew she was right. It wouldn't do to give her anything to gloat about, not that she would. 

What really rattled his chains was the fact that Woodward had been released two days earlier. Now that just didn't seem fair! Jack was glad Woodward was well on the way to recovery, but damn it, he was still stuck in the infirmary while Woodward was out there resting at home. Jack could rest just as easily at home as he could here and he would be much more comfortable to boot. All he had to do was get Daniel and Carter to drag his telescope down from its place of honor on his roof and set it up on the deck, where he could sit for hours at a time looking at the stars from the comfort of his armchair, which Teal'c would have been drafted to drag out there. Jack had it all planned down to the last detail, but the Doc still found holes in his foolproof plan.

Jack glared at the object of his thoughts as she walked into the room and came over to stand next to his bed. She smiled at him over the top of the chart she was reading, then put the chart down to give him her full attention. "Feeling better?" she asked, as she glanced over at one of the monitors he was hooked up to.

"Would it do me any good to say yes?" Jack growled at her, still mad at her for keeping him in that bed.

"It would make me feel better if it was the truth," she responded. She waited for Jack to say something, then sighed when he didn't. "Look Colonel," she said, "Just give it a few more days. You nearly lost another battle with death and I just want to make sure that you'll be strong enough for the next one."

Jack still didn't respond, but this time it was because she had surprised him with her words. They reminded him of the thoughts he'd dwelt on in that cell as he and Woodward lay there, waiting for rescue. He stared at her in amazement, wondering if she could read minds, then wondered what else he'd said while under sedation.

"Battle with death," he finally said.

She nodded at him, then told him, "You mentioned something along those lines the first time you woke up after surgery. I thought it fitting for you at the time. Actually," she admitted, "It's a toss up between who battles death more, you or Daniel."

'Daniel does have that whole ascended thing over me," Jack said as a smile broke through his anger. "Although I think I've died more times than he has," he added, his smile fading as he thought about that damned sarcophagus in Ba'al's fortress.

"Well, could you do me and my nurses a favor and avoid those battles?" Janet responded. "You can be pretty cantankerous when you're stuck in here. Besides, I don't like it when you're mad at me." The smile she wore on her face told him she was teasing him.

"I won't be mad at you'd if you let me out of here," Jack said, never missing an opportunity to state his case.

"No Colonel," she said in her best no nonsense voice.

"But…"

"No!"

"Fine," he sulked. "Don't you have some other poor sap that needs your attention?" he asked her, back to glaring at her again. She just gave him a knowing smile and turned to leave. She knew he really wasn't that mad at her.

"Oh, by the way," she said, as she turned back to him. "I almost forgot. Lieutenant Woodward asked me to give this to you," she continued, while handing him a ten-dollar bill. "He said you'd know what it was for."

Jack watched her as she walked out, thinking about her words. Yeah, he had battled death and won, but he knew that one day he was going to lose for good and he thought about getting out before that day came. He knew he wouldn't leave though. He needed to be a part of the solution, needed it with his heart and soul. Battling with death just happens to be a part of the grand scheme of things and Jack hoped that death would lose the battles for a long time to come. He figured it would. What with his friends and the hope he had in his arsenal, death didn't stand a chance.


End file.
